Happy Blog-iversary to us!

I wasn't planning to go so long between posts. but when I happened to be reading through some of my older stuff earlier this week, I realized that Zen of Bun has been in existence for exactly one year today! Yay!

As you can see, Mickey is completely overwhelmed at the thought.

It's a good thing I held off, too, because I didn't really have much of anything interesting to post about, until Mickey decided to take matters into his own paws. He's currently in the boy's doghouse again, although I will say that is with somewhat good reason for once.

Two nights ago, the boy was studying at the dining room table when I let Mickey out for his run. Of course, the first thing Mickey usually does when he comes out and sees the boy sitting there is to go over and give him a noodge to get his attention. The boy never appreciates this, so I was watching to see what would happen in case I needed to run interference. I watched Mickey run up to the boy, but for once, he simply scooted under my son's chair and went over to his tunnel under the table. I figured that my son had noticed this, so I sat down at my desk and went back to my computer.

"GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

I spun around at the sound of my son hollering, although I had a good idea what had happened.

"What's the matter?"

"Why didn't you TELL me you let the furball out?! He brushed against my leg and scared the **** out of me!"

I held back a snicker and reminded the boy of all the times that I had indeed informed him that Mick was on the loose and gotten "I know that." in response.  He was not amused. Meanwhile, Mr. Mick was still nosing around my son's feet, either clueless as to the uproar he was causing or determined to continue it. The boy pushed him away, muttering threats of violence against fuzzy critters who persist in interrupting his work. Mickey finally went over to me to get some petting, and I figured the matter was over.

A short time later, the boy finishes his work, gets up, wishes me goodnight, and heads off to his bedroom.

A few seconds later:

"OH MY GOD! *LOTS of swearing* "

I hear a bunch of things being moved around, and more swearing. I get up and rush into his room. My son is on his knees next to the bed, and I realize what has happened. Mr. Nosy Bunneh has struck again.

My son is leaning down and reaching under the bed. "You little ****, how the **** did you get in here?!"

"Did you leave your door open? I closed it myself before I let him out."

"The door was closed when I came in--and yes, I closed it after! Get out from under there, you little ****!"

He reaches under the bed and thrashes his arm around. I can hear nails clickety-clacking on the floor under the bed, and my son curses again. I clap my hands and stomp and order Mickey out. A few moments later, there is an orange blur and the furry invader is skedaddling out of the bedroom. My son is muttering more threats under his breath. I reminded him that he knows he's got to keep an eye out because Mickey does not miss any opportunity to go where he's not supposed to. (I will admit; this is the fastest I've ever seen him do it, though--I didn't even hear him go into the hallway after the boy.)

The boy was (again) not amused, so I left him to go back to what I was doing, making sure to close the door tight. Good thing I did, because within a moment after I sat back down, guess who was heading back into the hallway? I grabbed my camera to get a picture (since by then, I knew this was going to be a blog post), but Mick scooted back into the dining room the minute he heard me get out of the chair. Three more times, he went back into the hallway, until I finally opened the bathroom door so he could run around in there. (Of course, just as I did that, my husband gets up to use the bathroom--and closes the door again after he leaves.)

Of course, now Mick's headed into the hallway any time he's out, just in case he gets another opportunity. I make sure the bathroom door's open now, so he can bop in there and feel like he's accomplished something.

Foo' wabbit.

Yeah, all that nosiness can wear a bunny right out.

Anyhow, I would like to thank one and all for reading this blog over the past year. I hope we've managed to entertain you, and hopefully we'll keep entertaining you in the years to come.

"If I'm going to be doing this for another year, I want more treats."

Happy Valentine's Day!

Valentine's Day is relatively low-key here. Hubby and I do exchange gifts, but nothing hugely expensive. Most of the time, it involves both of us getting each other goodies from Catherine's Chocolates , our local handmade candy store. I get him his favorite milk-chocolate-covered cashews (and some chocolate-covered wintergreens for myself) and he gets me chocolate-covered strawberries. He also gets me roses or a bouquet of assorted flowers as well.

This year, I told him that all I wanted for V-Day was a display shelf for my bunny stuff. He recently built himself a shelf for his collection of Sesame Street characters (that's a story for another post), and I have a ton of bunny items that are sitting in a pile on top of a bedroom table in dire need of proper displaying. He said he'd be happy to do it. Of course, he still got me roses and choc-covered strawberries anyway, but I told him that won't get him out of building me a shelf. :)

For once, I actually dressed for the day: red top, red earrings, and this necklace, which I thought particularly appropriate:

Isn't it sweet? I got it during a bunny event at Berkshire Humane Society, the shelter where I got Mickey.

Speaking of Mr. Mick, while he doesn't get special gifts for V-Day, he did get a little extra treat in the form of some teeny-tiny dried pineapple and papaya bits. He got them as a belated Christmas gift from my girlfriend Laura, and I have been very stingy in doling them out so as not to have more tummy episodes. Needless to say, I was practicially tackled just opening the bag.

"If you value your life, you will dish out the treats NOW."

Once he was somewhat appeased with his treats, he was willing to pose pretty for a Valentine's Day message to his fans:

To all the single ladies out there:

I will be your hunnybunny

If you will be my bunnyhunny.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Love, Mickey

How can anybun resist that? Hope everyone and everybun is having a Happy Valentine's Day.

Things that go "thump" in the night

I let Mr. Mick out for his run last night, and everything was normal for a little while, but then things got a little odd.

As I was on the computer playing a game, he came over to tug on my pants leg as always (the bunny equivalent of ringing a bell--it means His Majesty wants some petting and there had better be some petting given or else). I reached down and stroked his nose for a bit until he decided he'd had enough for the time being, gave a little thump and hopped over to the rug next to my desk.

I went back to my game and continued playing.

A short time later, I hear him thump again. I look over and he's under one of my dining room chairs as always. All seemed to be well, so I went back to playing.

(THUMP)

I look at him again, look around--nothing. I turn back to the computer.

A minute later:

(THUMP)

I turn around again. I look, I listen. Nothing that appears to be alarm-worthy. "What is the matter with you, silly bunny?"

Mick ignores me. I turn to go back to the game.

(THUMP!)

I get off my chair and get down on the floor. Mick is still under the dining room chair. I go to move the chair to get a better look; he thumps at me, scoots out from underneath the chair, and moves back to the rug. I figure okay, he's looking for some extra attention, so I stretch out on the rug (which usually results in him coming over to snuggle up against me and lick my face).

He comes over, but then he stops, thumps at me, turns, runs under my computer chair, thumps again, then goes back under the dining room chair. He huddles up and thumps again.

Okay, something's definitely weird.

I get up, go over to the dining room chair, move it and pick up Mick. He offers no resistance. I check him over; other than a couple of poops stuck to his butt, he seems perfectly fine. I sit down in my computer chair and give him a snuggle and tummy massage. After a while, he makes an odd noise, like a small whine or a sigh. I stop the massage and check him out; he's fine and more than happy to continue snuggling, so I snuggle him for about a half-hour more, then set him down to see what he would do. He bops off as if nothing had happened, and the rest of the night goes without incident.

After I put him back in his cage, I go to check the front door area. His litterbox is there, but since he tends to leave a few stray poops outside his box on the doormat, I always have to do a little cleanup there before bed.

The entire mat is covered--and I mean covered--with bunny poops. Like somebunny's butt exploded or something.

His Majesty on the aforementioned mat

I guess the tummy massage must have done the trick.

Happy Year of the...CAT?!

Today begins the Year of the Rabbit in many Eastern cultures. The Vietnamese fellow who did my nails today told me that in Vietnam, however, it is the Year of the Cat, as they do not have the Rabbit in their zodiac/mythology. I told him that they should consider adding it.

Mr. Mick thought I should not have left him a tip. He says cats are already worshipped as gods in some places, they don't need a year. I told Mick that it's not my manicurist's fault that the Vietnamese do not have a Year of the Rabbit, and he always does a lovely job on my nails, so he gets a tip.

His Majesty continued to grumble about the injustice of the matter until I silenced him with an ear rub and a massage. Once suitably mellowed, he was willing to allow cats to have their year...but only Vietnamese cats. "The rest of them are out of luck, it's our turn."

"mmmmmm...a few treats, a nice massage...I'll take this for a year or so..."

Here's wishing everyone and everybun a joyous and much-blessed Year of the Rabbit (and a happy Year of the Cat to our feline friends as well).

It's Snowing Again...

Just in case anyone's thinking I'm being a tad melodramatic:

This is the view from my kitchen window.

Another view (hubby is somewhere back there shoveling a path to the birdfeeders).

This is the view from my dining room/office window.

And we're getting even more over today and tomorrow.

"I think I'll sleep in today...wake me when it's spring..."

You and me both, Mick...